


labor of love

by prowlish



Series: End of Summer Twitter Reqs 2015 [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Pre-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:29:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4903894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the Functionists are surely wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	labor of love

**Author's Note:**

> for @coyoteteeth on twitter.  
> prompt: "pre-war Whirl making a watch for a friend or special someone"
> 
> I hope you like it! ー( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ It was fun trying to get in Whirl's head.

It was hard to believe that his shop -- his own shop! -- had been open for two months. Whirl thought it had gone rather smoothly, to be honest. A lo of new business were extremely vulnerable to going under in Rodion. But he was here, and his orders were steady, and now he had enough settling in time to his routine to work on a few side projects.

Whirl ran his fingers over the components. He'd picked every click and rivet with care. Assembling this one was proving to be tricky, but he knew he could handle it. The pieces were small, but his fingers were delicate and his optics were sharp.

It was ridiculous, this functionism. Who could argue that his hands were made to do anything else?

This was the happiest he'd ever been, besides. And that deserved a gift. Sure, Whirl had been headstrong and obstinate enough to go his own path -- and he had -- but one mech _had_ helped, in a way.

He'd listened.

Whirl was used to mechs pretending to listen. He was used to talking to himself, even! But this mech had listened and even encouraged those desires in his spark. As headstrong as Whirl was, that kind of validation -- even so small -- went a long way.

And, so long after his posted hours, Whirl tinkered, fine-tuning each gear on this tiny watch he was crafting. Small and delicate, like the mech it was intended for. His hands worked the little tools with expertise.

( _Made to do this_ flashed through his mind again, and yet wasn't that the very tenet of being he was defying?)

A labor of love, they called these acts. Or so he thought. Whirl didn't know -- he hadn't felt any feelings like that, except in the work he was doing now. Or maybe _that_ was what it meant.

Who knew. Language was not his area. Gears and clicks and little tiny hands -- yes. This mech wasn't even a friend, really. They'd only met once. But why not make him something? His was the final nudge that had made this all possible. A small reward was due, and then just maybe, Whirl could get his name. It had been simple, and yet somehow he couldn't recall it.

**Author's Note:**

> visit me on [@prowlish](https://twitter.com/prowlish) on twitter!! :)


End file.
